


Lonely Dove

by diemarysues



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-28
Updated: 2013-03-28
Packaged: 2017-12-06 18:38:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/738850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diemarysues/pseuds/diemarysues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of how Fíli receives his dagger, and the soul-searching that follows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lonely Dove

**Author's Note:**

> As Erin says, this fic is cursed. It was the first I wrote after seeing the movie the first time, and I'm only posting it now xD
> 
> Betaed by [suchanadorer](http://archiveofourown.org/users/suchanadorer). All remaining mistakes are my own.

The morning is cool and the grass is wet with dew.

 

Fíli checks his pack one last time before straightening, breathing in the fresh air. He is newly 46, and his flaxen hair now reaches past his shoulders. His moustache is a point of pride – one he lords over his only sibling – carefully managed and braided neatly.

 

The day starts as usual: hunting with Kíli. They separate so as to cover more ground and increase their chances of successful catches. Fíli smirks to himself. That isn’t strictly accurate – they separate because their hunting styles are too different. His brother is not a patient Dwarf. He’s happiest when he can chase after birds and beasts with his bow in hand.

 

Fíli, however, prefers to set snares. He’s done it so often that it’s become methodical, automatic, soothing. His mind is free to wander, and it does.

 

He and Kíli have no plans for the day. The blacksmith he works with has gone south for his health, so there are no swords or axes or pieces of armour to think of. Perhaps they can go fishing.

 

Fíli smiles. He’d like that.

 

Having finished the final knot – and taking care not to accidentally set it off – Fíli stows his pack in the hollow of a nearby tree and starts to climb. Its branches are plentiful and sturdy, and therefore it is the work of moments for him to reach a reasonable vantage point that is beyond smelling range for whatever beasts might come near the snare.

 

Fíli hopes that he will not have to wait long today. And he doesn’t.

 

A creak is his only warning before a pair of Lops (dead and strung up) land on the branch he’s on. The cord twists neatly so they dangle off the wood instead of falling to the ground. Seconds later an arm comes up around his middle, pulling him back against a warm body.

 

“Happy birthday, brother.”

 

Fíli’s lips twitch, but he doesn’t turn. “I thought you had forgotten.”

 

“You insult me.” Kíli rests his chin on Fíli’s shoulder. “Just because I didn’t say it as soon as I shook you awake.”

 

“Please,” Fíli replies. “You were snoring into your pillow long after I had dressed.” Giving in, Fíli briefly covers his brother’s hand with his own.

 

“Unfortunately.” Fíli can hear the smile in Kíli’s voice, and one creeps onto his own face before he can stop it. “I would have enjoyed the view.”

 

Fíli elbows him, none-too-gently. He knows that he’s the less handsome of the two of them and when Kíli acts otherwise he gets flustered. Who can blame him?

 

When Kíli whirls him around, his brows are knitted over clear brown eyes.

 

“Are you alright, Fíli?”

 

He nods shortly, unwilling to speak. Instead he focuses on Kíli’s hands clamped around his forearms, keeping the both of them from falling off the branch. Strong hands. Capable hands. Hands he knows as well as his own; he’s held them and kissed them and bandaged them for forty one years, after all.

 

Not satisfied with this, Kíli presses, “Are you sure? Have I done or said something that you would have me apologise for? Because I will do so gladly.”

 

This simple admission is filled with such unshakeable truth that Fíli’s breath feels stolen away. “It’s nothing. Truly.” He forces more lightness into his tone. “It’s just that I…”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I worry about your vision, Kíli. Clearly it has deteriorated.” Fíli tries for deadpan, but cannot stop the grin from appearing on his face.

 

Kíli snorts, affronted. “As someone who shot these rabbits from half a furlong away, I know you are talking complete nonsense. If anyone has bad eyesight it will be you, o’ _older_ brother.”

 

He rolls his eyes and shoves Kíli bodily off the tree – half a furlong, indeed. Alas, Kíli easily grabs onto a lower branch and swings for a moment before landing neatly on the ground.

 

Fíli would be more annoyed if he didn’t know he is responsible for those skills. Although they had been taught of the splendour of their heritage, they had also been taught to be grateful for what they had. And they are. This town and its surrounding forest are not the great mountain their parents had come from, but it is their home.

 

Fíli had adapted more quickly to life there, and as the older brother he had been the one to teach Kíli everything he knew. Their parents were more used to life under mountains and had been busy trying to support their family besides. Kíli had been all too happy to follow Fíli as they explored the alien terrain (alien to Dwarves, at any rate).

 

A pair of robins flutters towards the canopy of the trees, and Fíli’s lips curve into a soft smile. If nothing else, the headiness of freedom and the open air make up for a little of their lost past.

 

He’s drawn from his thoughts by a loud call.

 

“Fíli, come see what you’ve trapped!”

 

“Meanwhile he does not even care for his own catch,” Fíli mutters to himself, kneeling so he can untangle the cords from which Kíli’s rabbits are still hanging. More loudly he says, “One moment!”

 

“I will be your age before this moment of yours is over, I’m sure!”

 

Wisely choosing not to reply to this, Fíli instead strings the Lops around the back of his neck so that they hang in front of him on either side of his chest. Figuring them to be secure, he then climbs down the tree so he can deal with his wild brother’s latest distraction.

 

It’s a young buck. Kíli is crouched over it, smiling up at Fíli. He’d already slit its throat and is working on tying the deer’s legs together so they don’t flop about.

 

“This shall serve beautifully for dinner,” says Kíli. “We’d best stop by the house to give it to Mother.”

 

“What of your rabbits?” Fíli asks, lifting the cord with his thumbs.

 

“I’m sure Lyran will be willing to take them in exchange for a coin or two.” He shrugs. “Maybe something else.”

 

Fíli’s lips twist in amusement. “And what is this ‘something else’ that you desire?”

 

Kíli’s fingers still, and when he glances up again, his smile is so bright it makes Fíli’s toes curl. The moment is brief, however, and next thing Fíli knows, Kíli’s hoisting the deer over one shoulder.

 

“A less annoying brother, of course!”

 

Kíli's joyous laughter echoes through the morning and Fíli – after grabbing his pack – is happy to chase after him.

 

It is a good day.

 

* * *

 

It’s a short matter to drop the deer off at home, although their mother adds errands for them to run. Neither knows what she wants with salted herring and beeswax; it’s a mystery they’re not willing to solve.

 

List in hand, they traverse the familiar and oft-travelled path to the town and its main square. The streets are lined with shops and smaller stalls, and merchants trying to sell their wares. Locals and travellers alike are assaulted from all directions by smells and sights and sounds; they’re offered fruit and cloth and incense and weapons and spice and trinkets – and many more things. It’s a colourful and noisy and (mostly) happy place – and, if their history lessons are anything to go by, nothing like the city of Dale.

 

At this point, if Dís is talking to them about the erstwhile city, she will quietly remark that there is no point holding on to the past. Fíli will then do his utmost to chase away the sad look in his mother’s eyes; he cannot stand to see her like that.

 

If it is their uncle speaking of their history, then there will be more talk of bloodthirsty dragons and treacherous Elves and promise of vengeance. His eyes are not filled with sadness, but bitterness and anger.

 

A thin elbow digs into his side. “What are you thinking about?”

 

“…nothing important,” Fíli replies.

 

Kíli raises his eyebrows. “That I can believe.” He snickers, ducking to avoid Fíli’s punch. “What?”

 

“Mind that tongue of yours, Kíli, or someone may shorten it for you.”

 

Kíli’s response is to stick his tongue out. “Idle threats.”

 

“That’s what you think,” Fíli mutters, smiling all the same. He waves off a vendor of cutlery as they continue on their way.

 

“You’ll have to go barter with Lyran alone,” Kíli declares suddenly. “I have something I must see to.”

 

The beads on the ends of Fíli’s moustache smack into his face as he swivels his head. “No – what? What things?”

 

“I’ll not be long,” is the dismissive reply. “I’ll even pick up Mother’s things, don’t worry!”

 

“Kíli!” he calls, but his brother hardly spares him a backward glance as he disappears into the crowd. Fíli huffs a little. Sometimes he really thinks that Kíli has the attention of a mayfly – but he is young yet (they both are), so perhaps it is allowable.

 

He walks through the streets alone, nodding and greeting those he knows. He smirks at a cluster of teenagers (running errands for their own families, no doubt), and they giggle back at him. Humans are amusing – the younger ones especially – with their odd customs and their shyness.

 

Kíli says they’re only shy because they’re both so handsome. Fíli thinks Kíli’s an idiot.

 

Not everyone greets Fíli with a smile, of course, but he’s not bothered by it. Men and Dwarves live and work peacefully here together, but trust must be earned by both sides and many are still wary of their neighbours.

 

Lyran is one of the town’s butchers, and his wife a tanner. Unlike some shopkeepers that Fíli and Kíli have had to deal with, the pair doesn’t discriminate in their dealings. Dwarves are welcome. The brothers visit their shop whenever they have spoils from the forest that are valuable enough to trade.

 

“Master Fíli.” Naren, Lyran’s wife, smiles at him. She wipes her hands on a cloth tucked into her apron. “What brings you in this fine morning?”

 

Fíli bobs a short bow and holds up Kíli’s catch. “I have rabbit meat to trade, if you’re interested.”

 

“I’ll always take some, you know that.”

 

“Where is Lyran?” Fíli asks out of politeness.

 

“Oh, he’s at the back. He asked me to mind the store in the meantime.” She smiles again. “I must say, it is good to see you out on your own.”

 

He frowns as he hands her the rabbits. “Sorry?”

 

She’s untying the cord, so she doesn’t note his expression. Likely if she had, she wouldn’t have continued. “You two are always together. Your brother and you. Joined at the hip. I told my Lyran, I did – those two are a little odd. Never go anywhere alone. You know what he says to me?”

 

“Uh… no?”

 

“He says to me, he says that you Dwarves have got different customs to ours, but even I know that sort of attachment ain’t natural.”

 

“Is that so?” Fíli asks faintly.

 

“Oh, yes, dearie, count on it. I suppose that it’s only normal for a younger brother to tag along all the time – but this seemed a tad too much. I’m glad you’re starting to find your own paths.” Naren titters. “Oh, but I’m nattering, I’m so sorry. Let me just check something with Lyran.”

 

Fíli murmurs something in reply; Naren bustles off into the back room, so his manners don’t matter at this point. Her comments have struck something deep within him. Dark, disturbing thoughts that swirl around and swamp his mind.

 

Now that he thinks about it, he remembers whispers, odd looks, and remarks that, at the time, had seemed unusual. One by one they fit into a larger puzzle, forming a picture that Fíli is not sure he likes, and that he certainly does not want to grapple with while standing at a butcher’s counter.

 

Naren blusters in again, unaware of his internal struggle. “Your brother’s skills have improved, it must be said. Barely a nick on these. Lyran says we’ll be able to fetch a good price on their pelts as well. We’ll pass you half of the coin from that sale once it’s done, but for now I think this smoked ham will be an adequate exchange.”

 

Fíli tries a smile. “That’s –”

 

“Hello Naren! How are you this fine morning?” Kíli practically bounds over to the counter. “Ew, what’s in this? Are these eyes?”

 

Naren quickly retrieves whatever thing he’d grabbed from one of the shelves. “You keep your nose out of my jars, Master Kíli,” she warns.

 

Kíli laughs. “My nose is not the one you should worry about!” He reaches out before Fíli can react, and tweaks his brother’s long nose. “This one could take out someone’s eye!”

 

Fíli catches Naren’s raised eyebrow. A little uncomfortable, he tries to surreptitiously increase the gap between the two of them. Of course, Kíli – sweet, oblivious Kíli – compensates by stepping closer than usual.

 

“Something bothering you, Fíli?” he asks, frowning.

 

“No, not at all. We were just finishing up.” He swallows. “You can wait outside, if you like.”

 

Kíli frowns, actually looking a little hurt and like he’s about to argue. He seems to reconsider, frown smoothing out into careful blankness. “Very well,” he murmurs, and slinks out, his exit very obviously lacking the energy of his entrance.

 

Fíli winces inwardly. He lets none of his worry show on his face, though, resolutely turning to Naren.

 

“That smoked ham?” he prompts with a forced smile.

 

* * *

 

It’s with a profound sense of relief that he finds Kíli waiting outside. Fíli had thought that his brother would just leave, but Kíli’s frowning up at the sky, arms crossed over his chest and leaning against a low fence. When he catches sight of Fíli exiting Lyran’s shop, his frown intensifies.

 

Fíli imagines that he feels eyes burning into him from all around as Kíli strides up to him and grabs his arm, but he cannot look past the brown eyes of his brother.

 

“Are you sure that you’re alright?” Kíli asks, earnest concern evident in the set of his shoulders.

 

“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” His brother has grown, Fíli realises. They are the same height now. He can’t help but notice, seeing as they’re standing so close to each other – oh. Oh, no.

 

Fíli takes a step back, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Kíli, judging by the unhappy downturn of his lips. To cover it, Fíli says, “Surely I am allowed to act how I will. It is my birthday, after all.”

 

Kíli’s forehead crinkles mightily. “What you’re saying is… you’re feeling old?”

 

Fíli rolls his eyes. It’s not the truth, but it will do. “Why not?”

 

Kíli grins. “Good. Now here.” He shoves something into Fíli’s hands eagerly. It’s a small bundle of worn leather, kept closed with a thin piece of string.

 

Fíli sighs. “What is this?”

 

“It is a token of my affection. Go on. You’re allowed to look.” The younger Dwarf is practically vibrating with excitement, eyes darting between his brother and the small package in his hands.

 

Wry smile in place, Fíli nonetheless does as bid (still feeling out of sorts, like they’re being watched). He deftly unknots the string and unwraps the brown leather, revealing…

 

Well. Let it not be said that Kíli has bad taste.

 

The dagger is clearly Man-made, but the design is Dwarven. The briar hilt is patterned and the leather scabbard is plain and serviceable, with straps on both ends. He gently, reverentially unsheathes his gift; the blade is light in his hands, double-edged and shaped like a leaf.

 

Apparently unable to stop himself, Kíli leans forward a little. “Check the pommel, then.”

 

Fíli aims a kick at him but Kíli dances out of the way, laughing. After a half-hearted glare, he does return the dagger to its sheath, and turns it so the sunlight properly falls on the pommel. What is so special that Kíli is so wound up about?

 

_Oh_.

 

“How did you…?”

 

“Father showed me. He and Mother agreed with me that it’d be suitable.” Kíli sounds almost shy. “Do you like it?”

 

Instead of answering, Fíli attaches the dagger to his belt. He tries to ignore the flip his heart makes when he looks up at Kíli’s smile.

 

He’s suddenly taken by a breathless burst of anger – anger at himself for being unable to accept the gift and instead feeling paranoid and out of sorts; anger at Naren for making him aware of his and Kíli’s ‘unnatural’ attachment to each other; anger at everyone who’s staring at them and making his skin prickle.

 

Anger even that Kíli had insisted on giving him the dagger in public.

 

Fíli wonders if his reaction would have been any different if Kíli had just handed him the dagger in the safety of their home. He wonders if he would have just smiled at Kíli and then, overwhelmed with gratitude, set about thanking him properly –

 

– and these weren’t thoughts to be had in the middle of a crowded market. Or at all.

 

“Come,” he says brusquely, trying to will his thoughts away. “We’ve dallied enough.”

 

Kíli follows him readily. Neither of them talks as they return to their home, lost in their respective thoughts. Fíli has to repeatedly fight the urge to whirl around to see who’s staring at him – _if_ anyone is staring at him.

 

At them.

 

“You have been acting oddly all morning,” Kíli declares suddenly, his lower lip sticking out in a full-fledged pout. He sneaks a sidelong glance at Fíli. “I do not care for your poor explanation.”

 

“And I do not care about your not caring.” It’s a barefaced lie, but Fíli just wants everything to go back to how it was before Naren woke the thoughts and feelings that are occupying his mind. Just because he cannot hide his distress from Kíli does not mean he wants to explain it.

 

Kíli kicks at a stone somewhat morosely. “If you do not like the fact that I used the royal emblem –”

 

Fíli sighs explosively. “That’s not it at all. Believe me, Kíli; I am grateful for your gift. You did not have to go through the trouble.”

 

“I wanted to.”

 

The odd heart-flip thing happens again, and Fíli almost stumbles over a root. He really shouldn’t have looked at Kíli right then – or maybe Kíli shouldn’t ever gaze at him through those eyelashes of his. Damn him.

 

His brother has such fine features that it honestly distracts Fíli, sometimes. His thoughts turn to Naren and her comments, and he can’t help but wonder if these are opinions that would be considered ‘odd’ or ‘unnatural’.

 

“Fíli?”

 

“It is a beautiful blade.” Never mind that he had been thinking his brother beautiful, instead of his gift. Kíli doesn’t need to know that.

 

“The way you’re acting, I’d think you would rather not have it.”

 

Fíli smiles a little. He’s relieved that Kíli doesn’t know the true reason for this change in disposition, although he does feel guilty for not being able to hide it better. He tries to make up for it by slinging his arm around his brother’s shoulders as they walk along the path to their home. 

 

It seems to appease Kíli; the younger dwarf leans against Fíli affectionately, chatting about something or other. Fíli is happy to quieten his mind and let his brother’s voice wash over him. Naren and her gossip move to the back of his mind and soon are all but forgotten. Fíli expects to return home to a warm hearth and a hearty venison steak from the doe he’d snared that morning.

 

He does not expect to open the door and walk in on their mother sitting with their uncle. 

 

“Hello, nephews,” says Thorin.

 

* * *

 

Fíli has not been sleeping well.

 

He makes every possible excuse; he’s eaten too much at supper, he’s pulled a muscle in his leg, he’s got a headache, he’s too awake.

 

The simple truth of it is that Naren’s words return to him every evening when he tries to sleep. It would matter less if he was the only one affected, but he finds himself avoiding Kíli. He looks for ways to busy himself with projects that do not require more than two hands, finding errands for his brother to run on his own. He even gives up his seat at the dining table to Thorin (who is staying with them) and is now beside his mother instead of his Kíli.

 

It’s therefore more likely that Fíli cannot sleep well because he misses Kíli’s presence in his arms.

 

He’s sure that Kíli has noticed, but he says nothing.

 

In fact, having been given the chance to observe from afar, Fíli only now sees how much his brother has matured. He is slender and quick-witted and mischievous – all things Fíli has noticed before. But he is also responsible and courageous, and it is only now that Fíli can truly appreciate these traits, and regret that he has spent so many years holding Kíli back.

 

For what else is he but a stifling influence on his brother?

 

The guilt weighs on Fíli, tying his insides into knots. How many years has he been negatively affecting Kíli?

 

He also sees, where he had not seen before, the clear way he and Kíli are observed by everyone else. Every interaction, every look and touch and word between the two of them is scrutinised. _Rightly so_ , Fíli thinks. No brothers have any right to be so closely intertwined.

 

He never once thinks that this is all inside his own head.

 

Once he catches Thorin frowning at him when he stays at home instead of going with Kíli to collect firewood. It is clear what he is thinking, but Thorin says nothing.

 

Fíli doesn’t know if he should feel relieved at his uncle’s silence.

 

“I am going to bed,” Kíli announces one night, bouncing a little on his toes. “Are you joining me, Fíli?”

 

Fíli looks up slowly from the fire, pretending that he hadn’t long noticed Kíli getting up off his chair. “I’m not tired yet,” he says, pasting a smile on his face. “You’d best go on without me.”

 

For a second he thinks he sees hurt in Kíli’s eyes before he nods sharply and bids a good evening to their parents. Fíli shakes his head as he watches Kíli turn on his heel and leave the room. Clearly Kíli had not been upset, he thinks to himself. How disturbing that he is projecting his own feelings onto his brother. How delusional.

 

Too late he realises he has ruined the repair work he had been attempting on his winter gloves. His mind is not his own – it has not been, ever since the wrongness of his and Kíli’s relationship had been revealed to him.

 

Fíli glances around. Thorin had mentioned earlier that he would be outside. It would be as private a talk as any. Perhaps his uncle will be willing to advise him?

 

Rising and setting his work aside for another day, Fíli flicks a small loaf of bread from the pantry (and dodges his mother’s swat) before wandering out the back door. He thinks he manages to look as casual as possible. Neither of his parents asks where he’s off to, so he counts it as a success.

 

Thorin sits on the steps, his eyes on the moon and his pipe in hand. Smoke curls up around him, and Fíli briefly mourns the loss of his own misplaced pipe. Then he remembers why he has come to see Thorin, and sobers.

 

“Uncle, may I speak with you?”

 

Thorin’s acknowledgement is a single nod.

 

He opens his mouth, but closes it with a snap not two seconds later. He has not prepared a script of what he wants to say, and his brain seems to have failed him utterly.

 

“Would you like some bread? It’s baked with dates and walnuts.” He hates himself for stalling, but he honestly can’t seem to find the words.

 

Thorin, although he accepts the offer, is not patient enough to wait. “Do not delay, boy. Spit it out.”

 

He gapes for a moment before summoning his courage. His words might not be well-prepared, but they will be honest.

 

“I… It has been made known to me that Kíli and I have a relationship that is not… normal.”

 

Thorin breaks off a piece of bread and returns the rest to Fíli. “Normal?” he asks, a little muffled through his mouthful. “What do you mean?”

 

Fíli is anxious. He trusts his uncle more than anyone, but Thorin is also the only person he has broached this subject with. While he is desperate for advice, he is also afraid of judgment, or even scorn.

 

“He is my brother, and I see him as such.” Fíli worries at his lower lip for a moment while he considers his next words. “And more.”

 

There is no reply. Thorin just stares up at his nephew, returning his pipe to his mouth, waiting for a more detailed explanation.

 

Fíli crushes what’s left of the bread into crumbs before he can summon the strength to carry on. “I desire him. Mind and body and soul.” Fíli’s voice falters. “Is this… Am I flawed in some way to be feeling these things?”

 

As is his way, Thorin does not answer the question. Instead he frowns. “You ask this because you are my heir, do you not?”

 

Fíli shakes his head. “I ask for myself, and for peace of mind.” He takes a breath. “Though I do not deny that my duty to you has been in my thoughts.”

 

“This has bothered you for some time.” It is not a question.

 

“Yes.” It’s almost a whisper, small and defeated. Fíli cannot bear to see the disappointment in his uncle’s eyes, and so turns away resolutely. His fingers find the pommel of his new dagger, tracing the crest absently. It’s a nervous habit he has developed.

 

“I feel like this is wrong,” Fíli admits. He watches two fireflies dance in the moonlight as he gathers his thoughts. “I feel like I should not be having these emotions.”

 

“Are you bothered by your desires, or by the way other people perceive them?”

 

“What?” Fíli asks.

 

“I refer to what you said earlier,” Thorin continues, still perfectly calm. “Did you have any concerns about your relationship with your brother before someone else told you that you ought to?”

 

“I –” The words refuse to come, Thorin’s straightforward question making him feel like a Dwarfling, immature and naïve. He’s sure his knuckles are white; he’s gripping his dagger so tightly.

 

“What is it that you want, Fíli?”

 

The answer comes almost immediately and leaves a strong taste of bile at the back of his throat. “I want to know if my feelings for my brother are wrong,” he says, hand dropping from his dagger. “Or if they are…” Fíli can’t finish the sentence. He can’t let himself hope.

 

It takes a long while for Thorin to even look up at him, which makes Fíli want to squirm and shift from foot to foot. He knows better than to do so. Thorin may not have been around for much of their childhood – seeing as they no longer live in the Blue Mountains with their King – but he had been as much of an influence on their upbringing (Fíli’s especially) as their own parents. To fidget in Thorin’s presence is unwise, to say the least.

 

Finally, though, the deep voice breaks the silence, and Fíli can breathe again.

 

“I think, first, we should ask Kíli to stop eavesdropping and join us.” Thorin sounds _amused_.

 

Fíli’s eyes widen with horror, but sure enough he hears an annoyed huff and the scrabble of boots on tile. It’s with some sheepishness that Kíli drops from the roof and joins them, and Fíli gapes at him. How much had he heard?

 

Kíli doesn’t meet his gaze, or the gaze of their uncle. The light from the moon is too dim to gauge whether he’s pale or flushed, but it’s bright enough that Fíli can see that he’s uncomfortable and angry.

 

_He_ has made his brother uncomfortable and angry, and it makes him feel ill.

 

“Was it necessary to eavesdrop, Kíli?” Thorin asks, puffing on his pipe.

 

“I judged it so,” is the sullen reply. “Seeing as it concerned me.”

 

Shaking his head, Thorin says, “You would do well to take precautions so you are not caught. Not everyone is as lenient as I am.”

 

Knowing full well how ‘lenient’ Thorin is, Kíli hangs his head. “Yes, Uncle.”

 

Fíli takes a breath. He knows how cowardly he sounds when he offers, “Thorin, you don’t have to – I – you do not have to feel obliged to counsel me and my wayward thoughts. They’re not… they are not important.”

 

Kíli’s head whips towards him, mouth falling open incredulously. Even Thorin looks shocked; but this soon gives way to disappointment, which cuts Fíli.

 

Thorin sighs. “Perhaps this is my fault.”

 

A spike of alarmed surprise shoots through Fíli. “Uncle?”

 

“Perhaps if you had grown up amongst more of our kin, you would not be facing this problem.”

 

Fíli clenches his fist. He suddenly and keenly wishes he had not brought this up in the first place.

 

“Then again,” Thorin continues, “perhaps this conversation would have taken place all the sooner.”

 

_What_?

 

Thorin, having stowed his pipe, gets to his feet and places a hand on each of their shoulders. “You are my sister-sons,” he says seriously, meeting first Fíli’s and then Kíli’s eyes. “And while I do not find it necessary to coddle you, I am proud of you. I do not think you would do anything to bring shame to the line of Durin.” He squeezes their shoulders. “Either of you.”

 

That didn’t answer anything. “But, Uncle –”

 

“I will say no more on the matter.” Thorin smiles his not-quite-smile before stepping between them. “Good evening.”

 

Their chorus of “good evening, Uncle” is one born of years of practice. It does not mean that things between them have returned to normal, and Fíli is painfully aware of this.

 

They stand in the night, neither quite meeting the other’s eyes. Kíli is the one who moves first, who shifts his weight, who opens his mouth. Fíli, hyperaware of his brother’s actions, responds before Kíli can say anything –

 

And bravely not-quite runs into the house.

 

* * *

 

“Fíli.”

 

Having foreseen this conversation, Fíli merely opens his eyes.

 

Kíli is staring back at him in the gloom.

 

Fíli is tired. He is tired from his lack of sleep, from the earlier conversation, from actively avoiding his brother. He wants nothing more but to press his face into Kíli’s hair. Except he can’t. He still doubts himself, still questions his own actions. He wonders at Thorin’s words, and wonders if Thorin had meant to give them his blessing.

 

How can he possibly hope to succeed the throne if he cannot figure this out for himself?

 

“Are you ashamed of me?” asks Kíli in a tiny, tiny voice, tinier than when they’d been wee Dwarflings and had gotten into ridiculous fights.

 

Fíli closes his eyes. If he says yes, will that push his brother away from this delusion and onto his own path? If he says yes, will he be able to deal with his own loneliness? If he says yes, can he live without the constant presence of Kíli by his side?

  

Is he selfless enough to let Kíli go?

 

Finally, Fíli sighs. He cannot lie. Not to his Kíli. “Never,” he says, defeat and agony evident in his voice. “I can and will never be ashamed of you.”

 

“Then why?” Kíli’s fingers find his in the dark. “Why do you push me away?”

 

_I do not want to_ , Fíli thinks. _But I should_. “I must.”

 

“You must,” Kíli parrots mockingly.

 

“I cannot… Kíli, I am holding you back. Surely you can see that.” Fíli tries to keep his voice down. He feels like his emotions are trying to burst forth like water behind a dam.

 

“I will remind you of my superior eyesight and the fact that I cannot see how I am being ‘held back’.”

 

“A bird that has been caged all its life will know nothing of freedom.”

 

Kíli scoffs. “I am not a _bird_.”

 

“That’s not the point! Haven’t you considered a life beyond this, beyond –” He swallows. “Beyond us?”

 

“Haven’t you considered that I don’t want that? Have you considered what I _do_ want?”

 

Alarmed, Fíli pushes himself up on one elbow. “Kíli, I didn’t mean –” He cuts himself off when Kíli unlinks their fingers; the loss is tangible, like the air has been stolen from his lungs.

 

Hands settle on his shoulders, pushing him flat against the mattress. Fíli almost cries with relief at the contact. It’s distracting enough that he almost doesn’t notice when Kíli throws a leg over his hips.

 

Almost doesn’t notice.

 

Kíli’s weight presses him down onto their bed. Fíli can hardly think past his brother’s close proximity and the fingers curling into his thin nightshirt.

 

“Listen to me, _brother_ ,” Kíli says lowly, almost snarling. “And listen well. I may be younger than you, but never make the mistake of presuming that I do not know my own mind.”

 

Fíli wants to interrupt, but finds a palm pressed over his mouth. Kíli glares.

 

“I _told_ you; now is the time for you to listen. I want you to know that I am your brother and I love you. I do not care a whit what others think of us, be it our family or friends or strangers we have never met. I care about you.” By this time, Kíli’s hand has moved to cup Fíli’s cheek. “I do not want to be parted from you. I would not be able to bear it.”

 

“I wish for nothing more than to be by your side, but –”

 

“No.” Shaking his head, Kíli leans down further, his breath hot on Fíli’s face. “I promise you, I would rather die than leave you. But if you were to ask it of me, I will do as you say and leave you to your life, and to your plans.” The expression in Kíli’s eyes more than adequately conveys how he feels about this idea.

 

“Just say the word,” he whispers, “and I will do it.”

 

Fíli thinks about his Uncle’s words from earlier. He thinks about Naren’s chatter. He thinks about the looks he and his brother receive every day. He thinks of his parents, and he wonders if they know. He wonders if Thorin has told them.

 

He wonders if that should matter.

 

_No. No more doubts. No more debating wrong and right._

 

All Fíli can think to do is push himself up off the bed. He feels Kíli’s gasp milliseconds before their lips meet.

 

It’s not their first time.

 

Fíli knows what it feels like to press his thin mouth to Kíli’s. He knows what it feels like to have that sparse beard tickle his skin. He knows that his long nose squashes almost uncomfortably against Kíli’s face.

 

This kiss has all these things, and more. It feels like a sweet promise, of hope, of the future. It lasts an age and a second, it is painful and wonderful and terrifying and _right_. His head is spinning and he has to clutch at the back of Kíli’s shirt, hoping it’ll anchor him.

 

They don’t say anything when they separate. Kíli smiles a little, bashful, and places a soft kiss on Fíli’s cheek. There’s barely any pressure, but Fíli’s nerves are set alight at the touch of that full bottom lip. He feels every bit of movement as Kíli climbs off him. While his brother’s build is slight, his weight is keenly missed.

 

It’s with a sigh that Kíli tucks himself against Fíli’s chest; Fíli settles his chin on the top of Kíli’s head. They have always fit against each other like this, ever since they were children. Perhaps things have changed, and they’re not sure what the future will bring, but at least they will always have this.

 

They will always have this.

 

Fíli thanks everything he has ever known, one by one and each by name. Only once he’s finished does he tighten his arms around his brother and join him in sleep.

 

* * *

 

It will be many years before they are asked to join their uncle’s quest to reclaim their home – many years filled with laughter and cross words and making love under the stars. Neither will hesitate to answer their King. Because they know in their heart of hearts that where one goes, the other will follow. And that is all that matters.


End file.
